


Disorder

by The Fink (orphan_account)



Category: The Network
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-15
Updated: 2006-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/The%20Fink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning of the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disorder

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the [spasticsuburbia](http://www.livejournal.com/users/spasticsuburbia/) universe, specifically in Fink and Snoo’s back story. For those uninformed: Fink is referred to as Wil here (short for Wilhelm) and Snoo goes by the first name that [oneandonlytrey](http://www.livejournal.com/users/oneandonlytrey/) has given him, specifically Sam (short for Samuel). Apologies to Svengali’s player, since I basically just used my own version of him.

Sam was nervous, to say the least, this would be his first time cooking for someone other than Wil, and for a fucking _professor_ at that. He fussed about the kitchen, preparing the traditional German meal he’d planned for the occasion.

The door opened with Wil’s usual bang, though it was slightly less jarring, Sam assumed he was toning himself down a bit because of their guest.

“Hey, Sam, come out here and meet the Doctor.”

Or not, if Wil’s shouting was any indication. Sam sighed and set his spoon aside, carefully turning the stove down so as not to burn the meal. He wiped his hands on his apron and then made his way toward the door.

He was in no way prepared for the sight that greeted him.

The man standing beside Wil was tall, and strikingly handsome; black hair and equally dark, almost hypnotic eyes. His posture and dress, a long, tailed coat and dress gloves, spoke of high-class upbringing. He smiled courteously at Sam and extended a hand in greeting.

“Dr. Svengali, to be more specific. Young Wilhelm here has told me much about you.”

Sam was even more nervous than before, though he tried to hide it, accepting the Doctor’s hand and shaking it gently. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the tall man’s eyes, so he occupied himself with the cracks in the wood floor.

“S-Samuel,” he swallowed hard. “Wil’s told me a bit about you too.”

Something in the way the Doctor turned to smile at Wil, in the way Wil returned the grin, made Sam’s stomach squirm. Something was very _wrong_ here, though he couldn’t quite place what. He’d never been the jealous type, and he was not going to start now.

“Let me take your coat for you, Doctor.”

Or maybe he was. There was a definite softness to Wil’s voice just then, a softness he’d never been greeted with.

With a shake of his head Sam turned on his heels, not wanting to look at the pair just then; the way they seemed to almost communicate just with their eyes, having a conversation he could never be a part of.

“I’m g-going to go get dinner. Can you set the table, _Wilhelm_?”

 

Dinner was strained, to say the least. Sam spent most of his time staring down at his plate, pushing his food this way and that and making it more or less look like he’d eaten something. Not that it mattered; Wil seemed to only have eyes for the Doctor. The two of them hadn’t stopped talking about physics and philosophy and ‘the homeland’ all evening.

“I’d love to visit Berlin again, last time I was there I was just a kid.”

Sam glanced up at Wil, noting the way his eyes lit up over childhood memories, memories of life back in Germany. Memories he could never properly share.

His heart ached a little.

“I make it a point to visit family there every summer. Perhaps you could join me this year?” Svengali dabbed his lips with his napkin before carefully smoothing it back out over his lap. “Samuel also, of course.”

Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed his chair out from the table abruptly, turning toward the bathroom and not looking at either of them as he mumbled.

“I h-have to go take my m-meds.”

 

The water was cold on his hand, almost enough to numb his fingers, an eerie contrast to the hot trails running down his cheeks. His other hand was a tight fist, clenched around several small capsules that were _supposed_ to make his life easier.

Fuck it all.

Slowly he turned the faucet off and then dried his hand and cheeks, his movements almost ritualistic in nature. His eyes met his own in the mirror, and for not the first time he wondered who he really was.

His fist opened slowly, and the pills fell like tiny beads into the sink, disappearing down the drain.


End file.
